The Real(20)

Though the sky was gray, I felt covered in sun.

Abbie’s Mac: Do you do that to every woman you woo?

Cameron’s Mac: Do what?

Abbie’s Mac: Say things like that?

Cameron’s Mac: You get no history of woo. Your rules and woo? I mean I know what wooing is, but is that still a word fit for 2017?

Abbie’s Mac: It’s the best word. And I’d say you’re bringing it back fucking nicely.

Cameron’s Mac: Such a dirty mouth on a totally fucking wooable woman.

Though his eyes were lit with mischief and his tilted lips told me he was happy to see me, it was the weariness in his posture that prompted my next question.

Abbie’s Mac: Tell me what’s wrong.

He hovered over his keyboard and I saw him make the decision.

Cameron’s Mac: Can’t.

Abbie’s Mac: You sure? Something I can help with?

Cameron’s Mac: Not with this.

Abbie’s Mac: That bad?

He shrugged.

Cameron’s Mac: Just a shit day. I need a vacation.

Just as he said it, his phone rattled on the table. He ran a business and I knew more than anyone how taxing it could be. He silenced his phone without looking at it and put it in his pocket.

Abbie’s Mac: Sure I can’t help?

Cameron jerked his head as if the question annoyed him and I paused my hands over my keys. It was the first time I’d seen that side of him and I sat idle. Uncomfortable and ready to make an excuse, I began to type.

Cameron’s Mac: I’m sorry. Don’t even think about leaving me here. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.

When I remained quiet he spoke.

“Abbie, look at me.”

I looked up over our Macs and saw his apology.

“I’m sorry.”

Abbie’s Mac: It’s fine. I shouldn’t have pushed.

Cameron’s Mac: It’s one of the things I like about you. I’m fond of Miss Fix-It. Okay? I’m sorry. I’m fucking stressed out and I’m tired and all I want to do is walk over there and ruin your lips.

I would have given anything to run my fingers through his hair and kiss his thoughts away. I said a silent prayer he could deliver a kiss. It meant life or death to me.

Abbie’s Mac: Are you a good kisser?

Cameron’s Mac: I’ve had no complaints. But why don’t you get that beautiful, jean-clad ass over here and find out?

Abbie’s Mac: You would kiss me for the first time in a coffee shop?

Cameron’s Mac: In front of God and everyone. At this point, I’d kiss you anywhere you let me. Are you ready for that, Abbie? Because once I get access to those lips, I’m going to suck them dry.

Abbie’s Mac: Sounds promising and painful.

Cameron’s Mac: A kiss can be an introduction, statement, and a promise. I plan to make all three when you let me.

I trembled inside at his words. He was coming on strong. But we’d been doing the coffee dates for over a month. I sometimes wondered if he was going to tap out. As if he could sense my thoughts, he sent another message.

Cameron’s Mac: I can wait. I will wait. Tell me about your day.

Abbie’s Mac: Much of the same. Nothing to report. Numbers don’t lie—ever. It’s so cut and dry, sometimes I wonder what I was thinking with my career choice.

Cameron’s Mac: Bored?

Abbie’s Mac: I need a challenge. A puzzle I can’t figure out. I need to be engaged, and the project I’m working on is ending soon. I just need that fire that comes with a new job.

Cameron’s Mac: So, it’s coming. You just have to be patient.

He smirked because he’d gathered through our earlier conversations that patience was something I lacked. Cameron read me well, and I loved that fact.

Abbie’s Mac: My mother says I was the most restless and eager kid on the planet. And she claims I ruined every spelling bee, blurting the answers out of turn.

His brow lifted as he gave me another knowing twist of his lips.

Cameron’s Mac: You totally ruined them.

Abbie’s Mac: Yes, Cameron, I am I M P A T I E N T. I ruined the second-grade spelling bee and Steven Marcum’s epic comeback. I was an asshole kid.

Cameron’s Mac: Overachiever?

Abbie’s Mac: No, but I wanted to be. So badly. My mother’s praise was all I craved.

I gave a light laugh while I typed.

Abbie’s Mac: My mother’s love made me an asshole.

Cameron’s Mac: I love it when you crack yourself up. Laugh at your own shit. It’s adorable.

Abbie’s Mac: You do?

Cameron’s Mac: Yeah, I do. And you’re not even funny.

I shot him the bird. That earned me a chuckle.

I studied his Adam’s apple while he laughed, itching to get my lips on it, that’s when I saw the deep scratch next to it.

Abbie’s Mac: What in the hell happened to your neck?

Cameron’s Mac: Max’s pit bull, Veronica. She gives shitty hickies.

Abbie’s Mac: That looks awful.

Cameron’s Mac: Doesn’t hurt. And don’t worry, she made sure to apologize by taking a shit in my Nikes.

He grinned and swept his tongue over his bottom lip. My breathing went shallow as I let my imagination get the best of me.

Cameron’s Mac: Want to take a shot at a better hickey? I have the whole left side free.